


A Bit of a Predicament

by BakerStreetDonuts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: At lease he thinks so, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, John is straight, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock is a diva, Smut, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerStreetDonuts/pseuds/BakerStreetDonuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is injured and needs John's help, for something has arisen, quite literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit of a Predicament

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave any comments or feedback! It would be very much appreciated.

He looked up to see the tall, slim figure of Sherlock silhouetted in the doorway of his room. John flicked his eyes up from his computer screen and waited for Sherlock to say something. Numerous seconds passed with nothing but silence stretching between them. John rolled his eyes.

  
"Yes, Sherlock?” John sighed. John looked back at his laptop and resumed his work while waiting for Sherlock to respond. After another long pause, Sherlock inhaled deeply and responded.

  
“I am in a bit of a predicament.” He muttered in his low, gravelly voice. He hadn’t moved an inch since he came to John’s room. John lifted his eyes to look at Sherlock’s dark figure. His features were cloaked in the dimness of John’s room. The only light came from a small lamp at his bedside table and the glow from his laptop. John was unable to read Sherlock’s expression in this light, or lack-there-of.

  
“Okay...what is it?” John asked. John paused his typing. Sherlock’s apprehensiveness was worrying John slightly. Sure, Sherlock loved dramatic pauses, but this time felt different. John shifted his weight on the bed and sat up, watching Sherlock’s stiff form in the doorway.

  
“Well. I- I am…,” Sherlock stammered. He coughed lightly before resuming, “It’s uh. When I...Do- Do you remember how I burned my hands earlier?” he murmured.

  
“Yeah, of course I remember. I wrapped them for you, didn't I? Just get on with it, Sherlock. If it’s not serious, I do have some work I need to get done,” he said.

  
“Well. Since I can’t use my hands...um...something has arisen, quite literally, and I could use your assistance. As a doctor, of course.” Sherlock added with more confidence.

  
“Okay, sure. What do you need my help with?” John inquired. He still wasn't getting what the issue was. Sherlock took one long stride into John’s room so he could finally be seen. The issue was very apparent now. There was a noticeable bulge in the front of Sherlock’s silk trousers. Finally understanding, John mumbled a soft, “Oh.”

  
“Yes. I know this is somewhat of an uncomfortable situation, but I trust you and you seemed like the most logical person to ask for help, since I don’t want to risk injuring myself further because, let’s face it, I’m quite useless without my hands and-”

  
“Shut up for a second, Sherlock,” John cut him off, “I just want to make sure I understand exactly what’s going on here. You came in here in the middle of the night so I could help you _wank_?” John inquired in utter disbelief.

  
“Essentially, yes. Though you put it in rather crude terms. But yes, in your words, I need assistance _wanking_ ,” Sherlock said plainly, growing bored with explaining himself. His nervousness was apparently long gone. He walked further into John’s room and sat down in his desk chair, facing John, his knees slightly parted. His erection became even more noticeable in this new position. John couldn’t help but stare at the impressive bulge of his flatmate, silently comparing. _No, stop it, John. This is ridiculous_. He closed his eyes, shook his head and looked back at Sherlock.

  
“No.”

  
“No?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John.

  
“No! Sherlock, are you crazy?” John exclaimed incredulously. He slid forward to the edge of his bed, and rubbed his face with his hands. What was even going on?

  
“Not presently. I’m not sure I understand. I asked my friend for help, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” Sherlock’s eyes followed John’s movements.

  
“Not with this sort of thing!” John nearly yelled into his hands. “Sherlock, I’m not gay.”

  
“I never said you were,” Sherlock stated flatly.

  
John stilled and lifted his head to look at Sherlock, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Well what you’re asking of me is a pretty gay thing to do, Sherlock! Most friends don’t wank each other off!” John exclaimed.

  
“Well then, I’m not asking you as a friend. I’m asking you as a doctor.” Sherlock said calmly.

  
He paused. “What?”

  
“I am asking Doctor Watson to help a patient. I don’t want to injure my hands any further, as they usually prove useful to me. Please John.” John stared at Sherlock for a moment, just thinking. He is a doctor, after all. But this is Sherlock, for Christ’s sake. Sherlock “I won’t let anyone get close to me because I’m a complete prat” Holmes is asking John to touch him intimately. Sherlock knew John too well. He knew he would never say no to a friend in need, even if it was as utterly fucked up as this. John cursed under his breath. _Damn it._

  
“Fine.”

 Sherlock smirked at him and stood up.

“But if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear to God-” John said firmly, pointing a finger at Sherlock.

  
Sherlock cut him off and raised his hand with three fingers up. “Scout’s Honor.”

  
“Okay.” John exhaled heavily through his mouth. “What do you need me to do?”

  
Sherlock sat down next to John. “Um, take my trousers off for starters.”

  
“You can’t even do that yourself?”

  
Sherlock held up his wrapped hands. “Hands, John.”

  
John rolled his eyes. Sherlock really was a drama queen sometimes. John turned towards Sherlock and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers. Sherlock lifted his hips off the bed a little bit to make it easier for John to slide them over and down his legs. John pushed them down so they pooled at Sherlock’s ankles. He sat back up.  
“All the way off,” Sherlock ordered. John sighed, but complied. He took them all the way off of Sherlock and dropped them on the floor. “No, fold them.”

  
“Really, Sherlock? Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

 

“I want to do this how I would normally do it. I want this to be as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances. This is what I normally do when I masturbate. So, fold.” Sherlock said calmly.

  
Great, that was all John needed. Now John couldn’t imagine anything but Sherlock in his dressing robe, his legs open, stroking his cock languidly...Just great. But John felt a strange sense of warmth pool in his groin at the thought. He quickly tried to shake the image out of his mind.

  
He picked up the trousers and folded them. He placed them at the foot of the bed and looked back at Sherlock, purposefully avoiding looking at his groin.  
“Pants now, John.” Sherlock muttered. John took a deep breath and reached forward towards his flatmate, but he hesitated before he got to his pants. “Problem?” Sherlock asked, eyeing John’s expression.

  
“Um, I just thought you might be more comfortable if you were covered a little bit. I could put the duvet over you...or something.” John bit his lip.

  
“No, I’m fine.”

  
“A-Alright,” John stammered. Why was he so nervous? He’d seen plenty of guys naked in the army, and that seemed fine, but something was really different about doing this with Sherlock. And he’s a doctor, for crying out loud! He’d dealt with a penis or two in his day. He plucked up the courage to pull Sherlock’s pants down and he put them on top of the folded trousers. John immediately looked back up to Sherlock’s face, trying to keep something in all this private.

  
Reading his mind, as always, Sherlock said, “You’re going to have to look at some point, John. You might as well just get it over with.” John knew he was right. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before taking a breath and looking in between Sherlock’s legs. He was impressive, to say the least. His erection was leaning against his black t-shirt covered stomach. His cock was long and pale, like the rest of Sherlock. He was longer than John, but John was thicker. He had obviously been hard for a while because the head was red and slick with precum.

  
“Um. So should I…?” John reached his hand out towards Sherlock’s cock and made a vague gesture.

  
“Yes. Just do whatever you would do to yourself and I’ll tell you to make adjustments as needed,” Sherlock explained. How the hell was Sherlock always so bloody calm?! Did he not find this weird? John glanced up to Sherlock’s eyes and saw that they were dark, his pupils blown out wide. He stared at John’s hand nearing his prick with a look that John could only describe as hunger. Did Sherlock...want this? Did he want John to touch him? John felt his own cock twitch at the thought. _Stop it, John. That’s crazy. Sherlock is obviously just aching for some release. This has nothing to do with you_. His own cock wasn’t listening to his reasoning though. He decided to focus on Sherlock instead.  
John slowly wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s length, feeling the soft skin surrounding solid girth and giving it an experimental stroke. Sherlock inhaled sharply at his touch. Sherlock’s cock was hot underneath John’s fingers. John stroked Sherlock again, gripping tighter this time. John closed his eyes and tried to imagine that this was his cock instead of Sherlock’s. He quickly got into his normal rhythm, twisting his wrist on the upstroke and thumbing at the head.

  
He almost forgot what was really going on until Sherlock moaned, “Tighter,” in his baritone voice. John’s eyes shot open to look at Sherlock. Sherlock had his head leaned back over his shoulder, his long pale neck exposed. John had a sudden urge to touch it, but he repressed it. John tightened his grip and continued his long strokes, this time watching Sherlock, his own cock quickly growing despite himself. Sherlock’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, his breaths coming out in short pants. Sherlock reached a bandaged hand to the edge of his t-shirt and pulled it up a little to stroke his fingers lightly over his stomach. John inhaled at the now exposed section of Sherlock’s beautifully pale skin. There was a light dusting of dark hair leading to his leaking cock. John now couldn’t take his eyes off of Sherlock and his cock, mesmerized by the rhythm of his hand and Sherlock’s breath. His hand was starting to drag on Sherlock’s skin though, in a way that couldn’t be comfortable.

  
“Sherlock, I need to get some lube, or you’re going to start getting chafed. I’ll be right back, I have some in-”

  
“No,” Sherlock grabbed John’s wrist of the hand stroking him before he could move it away. “I’m too close for you to stop now. Give me your hand.” Sherlock raised John’s hand to his mouth and spit in it. “There.” Sherlock put John’s hand back on his cock and guided his strokes. John was beside himself at this point, cock achingly hard in his trousers. _Jesus, Sherlock. What are you doing to me?_ Sherlock let go of John’s wrist, wincing at the pain of his burnt hand, and let John continue. John sped up his strokes, gliding much more easily now with Sherlock’s spit-lube. He focused on the head of his cock until Sherlock’s hips starting jerking forward, trying to thrust his hips into John’s hand.

  
John secretly tried to grasp his own erection through his trousers to ease some of the tension, but Sherlock, as usual, noticed everything. Sherlock, face flushed and sweating slightly, side-eyed John and smirked at his situation. John gritted his teeth and focused on making Sherlock come to wipe that stupid grin off his face. He quickened his pace, twisting his wrist and spreading Sherlock’s precum around the head. Sherlock started to breathe faster and faster, his gorgeously pale neck now splotched pink with arousal. His hips twitched into John’s hand.

  
“Oh, shit,” Sherlock said breathily. “John, I’m going to-” He interrupted himself with the groans that followed as he came hard onto his own stomach and chest. John suppressed a moan himself as he watched Sherlock come in his hand. John slowly pulled his hand away as Sherlock’s breathing started returning back to normal. _What the fuck. What just happened?_

  
“Uh, well, thank you, John. You’ve been very helpful.” Sherlock stood up from the bed and pulled his pants and trousers back on quickly. He started to head out of John’s room, the semen still on his t-shirt, before he turned around again to face John, who was just sitting there, still hard and with a dumbfounded expression. Sherlock flicked his eyes down to John’s crotch. “Would you like some help with that?” he grinned deviously.

  
“Uh, I-uh, no, I-I’m fully capable of handling this myself, thank you.” John shook his head, trying to snap out of it. All the blood in his brain seemed to have gone to his cock and he couldn’t think straight.

  
“Suit yourself.” Sherlock turned on his heel with a flourish and headed out the door. “Until next time then, John.” John’s head shot up to the doorway of his room, where Sherlock had first come in not twenty minutes ago.

  
 _Next time?_


End file.
